


Hot Young Brunette Receives God's Love

by shiveringhand



Series: Living Water [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Androids (Detroit: Become Human), Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Christianity, Churches & Cathedrals, Depression, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of homophobia, praying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23564629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiveringhand/pseuds/shiveringhand
Summary: Will the resurrected Christ be Hank’s doom or salvation?
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Living Water [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696105
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Figured, if fanfics can include any kinds of themes why not write something like this? Some tough topics ahead so please read the tags before continuing. God is Love.

_Hot Young Brunette Receives God's Love_ , reads the title of a video someone has posted on a thread online. 

"The fuck?" Hank frowns but clicks on the link anyway, expecting something along the lines of an averrage gay porn clip with one participant dressed in a cheap priest halloween costume. It’s not his usual go-to trope but he’s horny, lazy and simply looking for a quick release. To his surprise, the video opens on a brightly lit stage with a slim looking man, dressed in a v-neck and tight blue jeans, jumping up and down, waving a hand excitedly.

"The kingdom of God is nigh, Rejoice!" the pastor shouts, white sport shoes flashing in the colorful spotlights as the music on the background gets louder. The camera zooms in on his smiling face and Hank slides a hand down his boxers, wondering if he should just skip right to the action. 

Calming down and getting serious the pastor positions himself in the mid center of the stage, legs wide apart, squeezing a microphone in both hands. He doesn’t look a day over 25. “The kingdom of God is nigh!” he repeats, wiping brown curls off his face.

Hank's worked up enough already, and the pastor looks real cute so he continues watching despite the odd setup. He lets his imagination do the rest, although he doesn't have to add much as the pastor gropes his chest passionately, red faced, moaning and shouting "Let God's love touch you, let God _release_ His love _inside_ you!"

"Jesus, no wonder this clip ended up here" Hank scoffs, putting it on full screen, so as to see the pastor better. He presses a thumb on his tip and sighs with pleasure. The young man on the video walks across the stage, waving a hand again. His legs are slim and strong, and the jeans give him a nice ass, Hank observes, thinking how great he would feel to thrust against. 

The clip cuts to another scene, with the same man and stage, just a different color t-shirt and even more charged tension in his voice. “-And after the fire came God's _gentle whisper_." he preaches. "When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and he went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. A voice spoke to him then,” he swallows gasping, and when he speaks again he sounds a little out of breath. It really gets Hank hot and bothered. Whispering, lips caressing the microphone, the young preacher continues, imitating God’s voice, "'What are you doing here, Elijah?'” He breaths in the mic and Hank can see him lick his lips. 

“And I was like, God, why did you whisper, when you got Elijah out of the cave? And guess what God said? He said,”

“Hngh, fuuck, hn…” the old man pants, jerking faster as the camera zooms in on the brunette’s face again. He looks extremely handsome, mouth slightly open and frowning. Biting his lip, Hank feels his fingers stain with cum even before the preacher can finish his sentence.

“I whisper because I’m _close_!”

"Oh God, oh god!" Hank whimpers relieved and grins as he rubs himself vigorously throughout the orgasm. "Jesus, fuck" he groans afterwards blissfully and wipes his fingers on the sheets of his bed.

"Remember," the pastor’s teary eyed voice fills the suddenly silenced bedroom. "Jesus is alive today and he's calling out to you-"

Horrified, realising what had just transpired, Hank quickly slams down the screen of his laptop before he has time to see another glimpse of the preacher. The pastor's inspirational message ends abruptly and only when the wildly whirling purr of the laptop's engine slows down, Hank's own excited breath calms into a lazy snore. Falling into the tender haze of afterglow, he swears next time he'll double check the footage before getting all worked up about someone's idea of holy.

_______________________________________

Despite telling himself otherwise, the next few days Hank plays the same clip over and over. He even writes a message, asking for more content of the same preacher online. No-one seems to have any more footage but some anonymous comment pops up in Hank’s notifications at 1AM one night, telling him he doesn’t have more clips but that the guy on it is someone named Pastor Connor from The Living Water Church in downtown Detroit. 

The very next day at work Hank finds himself browsing Connor's website. There's a picture of him smiling an unnaturally wide yet hospitable smile, a perfect row of white teeth flashing on their team introduction page. Connor's eyes are brown and his hair dark and curly. Hank finds an overpowering urge to run his hands through those curls. Connor's complexion is kind of a pasty white and there's small moles on his face and arms. In the picture he wears dark blue jeans and a tucked in simple black t-shirt that reads Jesus Lives in white on the front. The introduction text next to his picture states that Connor was born in a rural town in Central Michigan, went to a Christian College in Cleveland and moved to Detroit after receiving a calling from the Lord to start building God's vision for His people in town. It also states that his favorite artist is some Christian boy band Hank's never heard off and that his favorite animal is dog.

Using the printer at the office, Hank prints out a copy of pastor Connor's grinning face and folds it inside his wallet. He makes sure to shred the Living Water Church's logo in the corner of the paper into a million little pieces before tossing the remains in a recycling bin.

______________________________________

Hank finds out Connor not only leads a church but also hosts a faith themed podcast called _Coffee with Pastor Connor_ , and eventually he gets the habit of tuning in on it every morning before work when it airs. He wakes up early enough to hear Pastor Connor’s cheerful voice declare his sins washed away. Unlike in the big services broadcasted online every sunday, where the worship team is going wild and people clap and cheer, _Coffee with Pastor Connor_ has a completely different mood. Usually the show consists of unedited slurps of coffee, harmless jokes and news, but most importantly, of pastor Connor, speaking in a soft yet raspy voice about topics that he finds inspirational that morning. There’s also a sequence where he reads prayer requests and questions sent by his listeners. Hank wakes up early enough to hear the beginning of the show but usually has to leave for work before the end of it. 

“Who can _touch_ you like God can?” Connor asks over the noise of Hank doing the dishes one such morning. Connor sounds like he’s thinking of it for the very first time right now, so passionate, so ridiculously serious. “Who? Who can satisfy like Jesus can? No-one!” 

Hank snorts out loud and wipes his nose to his shoulder, “Preach it, boy,” he snickers and reaches a hand to grab the bottle of soap to squirt more of it on a dirty plate, before rubbing it clean with a brush. 

“God heals!” Connor declares after a long sip of coffee. He sounds convinced. “God heals,” he repeats and swallows, moved by his own words, “Don’t ever let anyone take Christ’s victory from you!” 

“Whatever you say” Hank nods along cheerfully and puts the washed plate to dry. He takes a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. Time for work. He’s gonna be late if he doesn’t leave right away. 

Hank dries his hands to a towel and walks over to his laptop to turn it off. “Bye, Connor...” Hank speaks over the audio, not wanting to cut the show short. He practically caresses the keyboard as if the machine itself was preaching in his living room. 

“He’s waiting for you.” Connor reminds his listeners, “ _I’m_ waiting.” 

"Oh boy…" Hank laughs, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“So come on down to Living Water Church at Brooklane-” 

______________________________________

After a while Hank tunes his car radio to Living Water Church's frequency as well, so as to catch the rest of the coffee sipping, prayer sobbing podcast. Everytime Connor ends the show in the same way, urging the listeners to join in. 

“Now, I want you to pray along with me when I say, Father, touch my heart on this beautiful morning” Pastor Connor would say.

At first, just as a joke, Hank repeats it, in his own words, “Kiss my ass, sky daddy, on this shitty mornin’.”

“May this day be full of Your glory and grace. Father, let me be a vessel to your work.”

“May it be whatever the FUCK-” Hank gasps as someone drives past him, forcing him to hit breaks fast in order to avoid crashing his car.

“...No more shackles, Father. Free me to praise You. And may I sing your glory for the rest of my days, amen.”

“Amen.” Hank sighs as the program comes to an end and a high pitched lady’s worship song comes on. 

“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus…” 

Hank turns off the radio and drives the rest of the way in silence, daydreaming about drinking morning coffee with the fuzzy haired pastor in his own kitchen. Connor would only be wearing Hank’s oversized t-shirt and smile irresistibly at his big yawn... 

“Don’t tell me you’re running late again because of that show” Ben groans as he sees Hank approach the bullpen quarter past nine in the morning. 

“No, I had to take Sumo to the vet this morning and-”

“Yeah, right. If you like that guy so much why don’t you just drive up there and ask him out?”

“Don’t be stupid! I can’t do that.” Hank laughs, wanting Ben to tell him otherwise.

“Ah, whatever, but you can’t just expect me to handle everything at work while you pine after him. This is getting out of control.”

The past few years Hank hasn't really seen sense in much anything. His work motivation at zero, physical and mental health failing, and his consumption of alcohol having skyrocketed ever since his divorce. His colleagues give him a hard time about being late, not because they've never seen him arrive late before, but because for the first time in years, Hank's got a spark of hope in his piercing blue eyes. So what if it's thanks to a hyper obsession towards some quirky young fanatic, no-one's heard the man walk around the evidence locker whistling before.

Starting his days with Connor’s podcast has had an immense effect on Hank. Not only because he’s gotten a reason to wake up every morning but also because of Connor’s relentless optimism. Once Hank stops belittling the pastor’s every word and actually listens to some of the things he has to say, he finds that the young man is a strong advocate for self-acceptance and encourages his listeners to truly evaluate what to hold true in one’s life instead of repeating some empty mantras about shallow happiness. 

One afternoon Hank sits on his yellow couch, catching up on episodes of Connor's podcast he hasn't heard due to a row of night shifts, and instead of praying mockingly or snorting at the stuff, he sits silently and listens to the pastor. He even joins in on the prayer at the end unironically.

"No more shackles, Father," he repeats after Connor and does a cross sign over his chest after the amen. 

"Have a great day and don't forget, God loves you!" Connor ends the show.

"You too, Con, you too." Hank mumbles, scratching his beard, trying to decide whether or not he's finally worked up the courage to drive up to see him preach on a sunday.

While making up his mind he browses a social media feed and a picture of Connor topless in a jacuzzi wearing sunglasses rolls on. Maybe he could learn from the man to whom bubbly happiness seems to come as second nature. Right then and there Hank decides to go to their next meeting. And if Pastor Connor were to lay a healing hand over his head he would most certainly not mind it.


	2. Chapter 2

Just by having listened to all of pastor Connor's morning podcasts Hank now knows that the young man is indeed single, prefers long walks on the beach and that his favorite Bible verse is from the book of Romans, “Nothing can ever separate us from God’s love”. Based on his social media accounts Hank also knows Connor to be a very social and athletic person. His life seems perfect in every way. 

Nervous to the bone Hank squeezes the steering wheel of his car at the church parking lot. He's not quite sure what he thought he'd achieve by driving up to the church, the determination fades even further as he observes the people walking by his car dressed in casual yet trendy clothes. No-one seems to be in their sunday best, not the way Hank, with his catholic upbringing, comprehends it. He loosens his bowtie and gulps, feeling silly in a grey three piece. He drove all this way, there's no turning back now, Hank decides, and takes one last glance at his neatly combed back grey hair from the rear-view mirror before stepping outside. 

The November wind feels biting cold in the back of his neck as Hank brushes past the young couples and their strollers full of newborn babies. He makes his way towards the building that looks nothing like a church, but that's where people are going so that must be the right place. He hunches his back not only because of the weather but also in order to not attract attention and wishing to talk to as few people as possible. At the front doors however he's immediately greeted by an enthusiastic group of young adults with pamphlets, their smiles so wide they could melt the breeziest of winter storms.

"Welcome home!" a young white woman with a nametag Chloe on her turquoise pullover tells Hank. "Are you here for the first time?"

"Uhh..." Hank startles at the reception, unable to say anything coherent.

"Here, follow me," a friendly looking guy named Josh waves a hand at him a few steps further inside. "I'll show you to your seat, sir" 

The lobby is filled with laughter and loud chatter, and it really seems like a big family gathering rather than any kind of reverent silence or echo of a grand cathedral. It's as if the greatest show on earth was about to take place beyond these cold concrete walls that from the outside look more like a warehouse. 

Hank follows Josh into a big room with multiple rows of seats and a dimly lit stage on which several people dressed in black hoodies are testing the mics and lights as if a rock concert was about to begin. It's extremely hot inside, partly because of the colorful spotlights, but also because of the large number of people packed in a room without proper air conditioning.  
The floor is paved with a bright red carpet and a notification on Hank’s phone invites him to download the church's app for donations, song lyrics and many other features. It all reminds the old man of a theater rather than a church. They wiggle their way through crowds of people hugging each other and laughing together, and Josh keeps turning back several times to check that Hank is still following him. "We're having a bit of a full house today!" he explains proudly and Hank nods sweat crowning his forehead.

"Here you go! Have a seat," Josh says finally as they manage to squeeze through a group of three large women in floral dresses. To his horror Hank notices that he has been taken to the very front middle of the room and there seems to be no-one else sitting within the two or three row radius from him.

"Thanks," Hank croaks, grinning rather than smiling. His mouth is dry from fear and the bowtie's still choking despite him repeatedly loosening it. The three piece suit feels almost suffocating by now and on top of everything, sweat clutches his boxers to his buttcheeks and Hank can smell his own fart linger through the neck-line. Paranoid about Josh sensing the smell, Hank rushes to take a seat.

"Enjoy!" Josh waves as a goodbye before disappearing into the crowd again.

Several people seem to be wearing and advertising some sort of church merc, sweatbands, plastic cross earrings and hoodies that read C.O.F.F.E.E., Christ Offers Forgiveness For Everyone Everywhere.

Palms sweating and heart beating Hank sits in his chair, hoping, no, praying that nobody would pay him any mind. Little by little the seats around him get filled up and a few minutes after the announced starting time a group of people walk up to the stage and start performing a song about forgiveness. The singer's face gets blasted on a screen at the side of the stage and Hank can see that he has one blue and one green eye. How peculiar, he thinks as the people around him stand up and wave their hands above their heads.

_"Come as you are, bring all your shame, when you call upon His name and surrender, you'll never be the same,"_ the guy sings softly, as a tall blond man plays a keyboard behind him. There's also an auburn haired woman in the drums, wearing a beanie and a black sports bra under a somewhat see through white tee. They all seem to be expressing gratitude and pleasure throughout the slow and touching song. Every now and then the singer frowns and adds an extra 'Thank you, Jesus' or 'Father we praise you' between the lines. He also repeats the beginning of the upcoming verse before it starts, to indicate whether or not he's going to move on to another part of the song. The lyrics appear on screen one line after the other and the congregation sings along to it clapping and swinging from side to side in an almost trance-like state. Hank doesn't recognize the song and the modern band arrangement with keyboards and drums in place of an organ seem odd to him as well. 

"Hallelujah!" another newcomer cries out next to Hank. They were quickly convinced, the old man thinks and tries to focus on the singer's passionate voice instead of the sobbing man to his right.

After the song ends another one begins almost immediately. It's an even slower and more somber tune about Christ's sacrifice to mankind, and several of the worship team members weep openly. Hank feels nothing but discomfort at such an open display of emotion. The man next to him tries to grab Hank by the arm during the second chorus but he declines politely. The man doesn't seem to care and continues to wave his hands and sing along. The third and last song is a more upbeat one and the crowd reacts accordingly. Hank doesn't jump and shout the lyrics despite the singer's great efforts to encourage people to 'dance for the Lord!'

When the music fades, a blue haired woman walks on stage and holds a speech about the importance of giving and about building a treasure in heaven, and on the screen they display instructions on how to donate money to the church. Hank yawns and browses their app. On it there's not only the info on how to give money as well as the same picture of Connor Hank keeps in his wallet.

After the blue haired lady finishes her heart breaking story about their outreach program and everyone has had a chance to consider and reconsider donating, the stage goes dark and the crowd starts cheering and clapping as if they'd expect Christ himself step out next. Someone moves around in the darkness of the stage, approaching the mic stand in front. Hank squints his eyes to see better. 

All of a sudden the lights flash back on, blinding Hank. The band plays a short fanfare-like tune to introduce the next person. And there he is, flesh and bone, standing barely five feet away from Hank's neatly combed and sweaty hair line, pastor Connor, dressed in a pair of black jeans and a neon yellow sweatshirt that reads C.O.F.F.E.E. in white. He's got a beanie on as well. That is something Hank would have never seen a priest in his childhood's church do. 

The crowd goes wild and gives the pastor a standing ovation. Flustered and surprised, Hank shoots up as well, cheering the guy on. Connor smiles and waves at his people and despite the set up, manages to appear approachable and down to earth. When he addresses the hall saying "Bless your heart, bless you. Thank you for coming tonight," somehow it feels personal and direct, as if he was alone in the room with each and every attendee. An uncontrollable giggle escapes Hank's mouth but the sound of it disappears into the roar of the crowd. Everyone seems to love this man, and why wouldn't they? 

The band adds round after round of excitement in the air, playing an upbeat tune and the lead singer introduced as Markus sings He is risen, from the bottom of his heart. Hank can't seem to stop grinning. He looks at Connor's picture perfect body and face, mesmerized as to how such a creature can exist in the first place. He looks so carefree and serious at the same time, completely in his element. It feels extremely surreal to be standing there, in plain sight and yet hidden in the crowd, Hank thinks, and feels a little faint at the idea of Connor potentially singling him out from the rest of the worshippers to address him in some special way. 

Through the haze of loud music and the magical mood of the room Hank realizes way too late that pastor Connor has indeed spotted him from the crowd, kneeled down on stage and is leaning towards him with a mic in his hand to ask him something. 

“What’s your name, sir?” Connor huffs into the mic, shoving it in Hank’s face.

And Hank may have dreamt of such a one on one conversation with the famous preacher, sure he imagined far more than just that already, but this was most certainly not the time or place for it to actually happen. He feels exposed and embarrassed in front of the congregation as if everyone is holding their breath waiting. As if God himself had paused the moment in time, to have Connor's denim covered crotch on Hank's eye level, and for him to be getting a microphone shoved in his face by the very guy he's been obsessing over for weeks now. 

“I- Uhh, H-Hank...Anderson,” he replies, trying to push Connor’s hand away, the spotlight blinging him. 

“Are you a man of God, Mr. Anderson?” Connor grins, expecting nothing short of a solid 'Heck yeah!' as an answer. Why else would the man be sitting in the front row?

Hank freezes and mutters something about God not needing a man like him. Half of it gets lost in the band's loud and energetic performance and in a blink of an eye Connor turns away to address someone else in the crowd instead and in all honesty Hank’s only relieved he wasn’t questioned further. The worship song goes on and on and everyone sings along to it, with their hands up in the air. Overwhelmed and having had quite enough of everything, Hank tries to push past the man who is somehow still crying beside him. He mistakes Hank's attempt at leaving as an invite to embrace him and after a very awkward half hug half falling over a chair situation Hank manages to get free.

"The Lord is _good_ , always!" Connor's voice blasts through the speakers as Hank walks away fast without looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

A couple of days after his visit to the church, Hank gets a call from an unknown number. At the time, he’s working intensely on a case and can’t take it, and since the call is not from anyone he knows, he decides to ignore it. Throughout the next few weeks the same person tries to contact him several times, so finally, out of curiosity and annoyance he takes the call.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, it's Pastor Connor Stern from The Living Water Church calling you on this fine afternoon! Do I have the pleasure of talking to one Hank Anderson?"

"That's me, yeah," Hank replies, aiming at an indifferent tone but feeling like he fails at it miserably. "How'd you get my number?" 

"You left your information in one of our online questionnaires, requesting contact."

"Oh. Right," Hank mumbles, remembering vaguely having typed his phone number on the church’s app. 

"So how's Thursday at six sound to you?" Connor smiles on the phone in a very nonchalant way.

"What?" Hank barks, confused. The good pastor is asking to meet with him? He's quite sure he's dreaming. Pinching himself in the arm proves otherwise.

"Yeah," Connor continues, like the great salesman that he is, "I've got a group for newcomers interested in faith related topics meeting every Thursday at six. Won’t you join us this week?" 

Right. A group session. Hank slams a palm to his forehead. How dumb can he be. "Yeah uhh, I'm busy then," he lies. There’s no way he's going to put himself in any more embarrassing situations involving this man and his church.

"We've got great coffee though," Connor insists and the natural rasp of his voice gives Hank goose bumps. "Besides, I'd love to see you again,” the pastor continues “Get to know you a little better. What do you say, Mr. Anderson?"

Hank's sure he's reading too much into the whole thing. Why would such an attractive and popular guy be calling an old man like himself, surely not to flirt! It's just Connor's way of getting him to feel special, make him think the pastor actually cares for him, like he matters, which he doesn't, Hank thinks. Some people are just foolish enough to pay a preacher to tell them exactly what they want to hear. The way Connor says his name and asks for his opinion is not a question at all. No, it’s a lure, Hank thinks, and it makes him furious because it’s working. Suddenly he wants nothing more than to go to this dumb meeting, if only just to hear Connor talk and call him by his name in that maddenigly seductive way again. 

Although the line stays quiet for long enough for the pastor to assume Hank's stopped listening, Connor doesn't have to add anything else. He simply waits, patiently, for Hank to make up his mind. His expectant silence makes the old man crave his attention twice as much, oddly enough. How captivating, to be such an easy prey for the pastor, he thinks and sighs.

Angry with himself, Hank scoffs, "Fine. Take me to church," realizing Connor might actually be too young to get the song reference. 

"Great! Looking forward to seeing you then!" Connor replies and ends the call.

Hank takes a look at his dog and tells him "What? It’s good to learn new things. I’m not going because he asked me to," and Sumo can't really argue with him on that, whether he'd like to or not. Hank rather prefers his silence.

______________________________________

The meeting takes place downstairs, in a small conference room, at the church. Hank's early, but sits in his car so as to avoid any awkward silences, waiting for the others to arrive. At three past six, after almost a half a pack of cigarettes and nervously scrolling down an endless feed of nonsense on his phone he locks his car doors and walks to the building. 

Connor has arranged the chairs in the room into a circle and it gives Hank instant flashbacks to the AA meetings he attended the previous summer. There's only four other people including Josh, the guy from their welcome team. He smiles as he sees Hank approach. 

"Welcome! Please take any seat. We're still waiting for the pastor. He went to get some refreshments," Josh says and points at the chairs. 

Hank nods and sits down one seat apart from a young woman holding a Bible. He doesn't bother removing his coat and sits legs wide open, leaning his elbows to his knees and tries to display dominance by starting to browse his phone. The woman nearest to him steals a glance at Hank and shows the smallest sign of displeasure at the cigarette smoke reeking guy who's clearly not given up his old life for Jesus just yet. The two other participants are a young couple in search of a church home, they exchange looks with the woman sitting across from them but say nothing. 

Ten past five Connor returns with a jug of lemonade and blue solo cups. He places them on a side table and takes a seat opposite Josh, in one end of the circle.

"Thank you for coming, everyone!" he smiles and shakes his wrist to check the time on his watch. "My name's Pastor Connor Stern. But you can call me Connor. We're all gathered here because we've got some thoughts about Christ and hopefully during this meeting we'll get to share with each other what kind of things God has revealed of His word to each of us. I'd like to hear a little bit about you all in a moment but first, let us pray…"

After the meeting everybody shakes hands and Hank almost works up the courage to ask Connor out for real. As the pastor takes his hand and smiles politely Hank gets shy and declines Connor's invitation to stay for coffee even though everyone else has already left the room. 

Hank clutches his open jacket close to his chest and crosses the street to go grab a bite at a nearby diner before heading back home. He takes a seat in a booth at the end of the hall and hunches down to read their menu. Soon enough a familiar voice startles him from his deeds.

"Oh, it's you! Mind if I sit with you?" Connor exclaims and takes a seat without expecting an answer. "You had some pretty tough questions today," he smiles, hoping to make Hank laugh but instead only receives an irritated glance in reply.

A forty year old woman named Daisy walks over to take their orders. Connor gets a latte with almond milk. Hank settles for a beer and a hotdog. 

"Yeah, I mean. Just got me thinkin’…" the old man grunts after Daisy has gone. "How come God allows all the shit?" 

Connor laughs charmingly. It doesn’t sound mocking, quite the contrary. He straightens up in the booth and rolls up the sleeves of his C.O.F.F.E.E. hoodie, leaning in closer. Still, the old man is taken aback by Connor's gleeful reaction. 

"I lost my son three years ago in a car accident," he frowns angrily. "Where the fuck was God then, huh?"

Connor doesn't say anything. He looks at Hank, dead serious, listening. 

"So excuse me if I’m not a perfect candidate to join your happy little club. I’m not exactly young and naive like you lot."

"Naive?"

Daisy interrupts their conversation briefly to serve Hank his beer and to inform them the latte and hotdog would be served soon. After she's gone again Hank continues, "Easy to be happy with God, looking as gorgeous as you do." He takes a generous sip of his beer, almost half of it in one go. "So carefree," he speaks again and lets out a loud burp. "S'cuse me. I just... don't really see the point in worshiping the asshole who supposedly has all the power in the world and loves everyone and yet, he took my son from me." Hank wipes the corner of his eye in his sleeve in a very rough manner, almost as if it was a slap in the face. 

Connor waits for a long time before saying anything. "I’m so sorry," he whispers then, softly and lays a hand on top of Hank’s, squeezing it a little before letting go. It's a surprisingly intimate gesture from one man to another. They sit in a thoughtful silence for a while and Connor frowns but doesn’t add anything in the end. Daisy serves them their latte and hotdog and Hank eats the whole thing in a few bites. 

"Anyways, I've got to go feed my dog," he sighs, patting his breast pockets, looking for his wallet.

"You have a dog! What breed?" Connor perks up.

"Uhh, a st. Bernard, I call him Sumo."

"Do you have any pictures of him?" 

Hank places his wallet on the table and takes a phone out. There's something silly about the way Connor gets sincerely so excited about Sumo.

"Woow! He's quite the beast. So hunky!" 

"He should get more exercise, I know."

"No, I mean, he looks good. Lemme see-" Connor smirks, sliding next to Hank in the booth and leaning in closer to grab his hands to zoom in on the photo of Sumo standing in a big muddy puddle. Hank grunts, trying to stay still as Connor's side presses against him. 

"I took a video of him singing along to the Kleenex ad last week." Hank swipes through his gallery in search of said video clip. A series of pics of him posing in front of the bathroom mirror in his boxers flash by and he blushes violently.

"Hold on," he pulls the phone from Connor who gasps grinning,

"Oh my!"

"Shut up! Here. Here! Ok. listen."

Hank plays a clip of Sumo vaguely howling in rhythm with the advertisement’s song. Most of it is just shaky and blurry as Hank snort laughs behind the camera. They both crack up and watch the footage twice. 

"Were you born in Detroit?" Connor asks and takes a sip from his coffee. 

"Born and raised, baby." Hank moves closer to the window to put some distance between the two of them and his belly rubs against the table when he moves. Connor eyes the man up while he's not looking.

"Cool! And you mentioned you're a cop?"

"Right."

"Isn't that awful dangerous?"

"Can be." Hank nods proudly and drinks from his pint.

Connor hums in accordance.

"What’s it like being such an intensely evangelizing uhh… priest?" Hank rubs his chin.

"What do you wanna know?"

"You're so serious about God, as if He's real, but ..."

"God is real, Hank." Connor interrupts him.

"You know what I mean."

"No, actually I don't. Tell me." Connor smirks and leans on the table, playing with his curls.

"Well...uhh," Hank blushes, not knowing how to point out the contradiction between Connor's firm beliefs and almost flirty approach to preaching. "You're a young dude so you've got to see some of the things you say are sorta... raunchy!"

"Excuse me?" Connor cocks an eyebrow.

"'Fill me up, come inside me, Jesus? What the fuck’s all that about then, huh?" Hank grins with a doubtful look on his face.

Connor shakes his head smiling, “Noo, No-one thinks like that!”

“Are you kidding me? The first I heard of you was from a-” Hank pauses.

“From what?” Connor insists, laughing.

“Nevermind.”

“You’re so funny.” Connor laughs whole heartedly and Hank scoffs, still smiling and running a hand across his face. 

They end up talking for hours. About work, life, movies they've seen recently, which celebrities they can't stand, and who they'd want portraying themselves in a film adaptation of their lives. Connor makes Hank feel like he matters, but not in the same way he does on stage, on a more personal, staring each other in the eyes while talking and forgetting about time and place, kind of way. They share a plate of fried chicken, and Connor who ruffles his perfect hair and sits up pretty at first, lets his guard down, ugly laughing at Hank's terrible puns and sipping his third cup of coffee ungracefully like he does on the morning show in the privacy of his own house. They talk and joke until the diner closes. 

Hank walks to his car and rolls down the front window to light a cigarette. Connor leans against the glass and winks an eye, "See you on sunday then?”

“Huh?” Hank blinks, cigarette bouncing between his lips.“Oooh. Right. Right. Heh.”

Connor tells Hank to pet Sumo for him and after they’ve said their goodbyes Hank stares at the young man’s distancing back until he disappears behind a building. Only then, as soon as he's sure the pastor can't hear him, Hank lets out a loud howl and fists the car horn, not being able to believe what just happened. He's full of fluff and giggles as he drives home, humming along to a CD full of 80's hits. Even the grey and cloudy sky looks bright to him and in that moment he truly feels like things might turn up alright after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Come sunday morning, Hank's slouching in his boxers on the couch feeling hopelessly useless. It's crystal clear outside, it snowed at night and the roofs of buildings have a light layer of glistening white snow. Hank's drinking cans of beer, half a six pack gone before 10AM. There's a rerun of a Gears game on the tv, one Hank's already seen. He knows the team loses big time against an unlikely opponent. 

Spending the morning in such a state Hank almost sleeps past church time. It's not like he was going to go anyway. Why stand alone in a crowd full of strangers, feeling nothing but worthless. Still tipsy and with a dehydrated headache he tunes in on the live stream almost half an hour late, having conveniently skipped the awkward worship songs and donation speeches. Connor's sermon is on. Hank pays very little mind to it, until the preacher goes quiet mid sentence. 

"Last night I was praying about a tough situation a friend of mine’s in," Connor speaks quietly. "He didn't ask me to pray on it but I said unto God, I said 'God, let the drops of your overflowing grace reach this man, let your mercy touch him in his hour of need.'" 

Hank opens his eyes, still lying limb on the couch. 

"I can see that my dear friend has not joined us here in celebration of freedom, instead he is chained down by the heavy shackles of self doubt." 

It could be about anyone, Hank thinks to himself and closes his eyes back up, intending to let Connor's soft ramblings lul him back to sleep. 

“I say, let us pray for this man," Connor continues, raising his volume up a notch. "He is a kind man, with a big dog, and you all know how weak I am for those."

The congregation laughs along compassionately.

Now Hank fixes his upper body to rest against his elbows. It can't be about anybody else, he thinks. Connor's sermon is about him. He sits up and pulls the laptop closer as if he could hear him clearer that way.

"I've shared my testimony with you before, but some of you may not have yet heard it, so I'm going to tell it again, for encouragement to each and everyone who hears it, here in this room, and those tuning in online." Connor's face gets all serious, no trace of that light hearted and bubbly preacher he's known as.

"I was born to a very conservative family in rural Michigan. My parents were the kind that love their children with restrictions and doubt rather than affection and care." 

Hank holds his breath. In all of his obsessive research of pastor Connor he's never heard his actual testimony. 

Connor walks slowly around the stage in circles, massaging the mic against his open palm, lost in his thoughts. "I was manipulated into thinking who I was wasn't enough for God." he says after a long pause. He sounds raw, defenceless. "I was told I would die alone and miserable if I chose to live in sin."

Hank's living room fills with suspenseful silence after every sentence. He draws a hasty breath between Connor's words, feeling out of breath despite sitting still.

"And I was lonely and miserable," the pastor continues. "I strayed away from God, far into a very dark place, where I honestly pray and hope you'll never find yourself in. I felt filthy and worthless. Stopped going to church. There was no point. I already knew what they were going to preach, They’d say I was wrong to love who I loved," Connor hangs his head low, standing still on stage. "I prayed to God, please take this curse off of me. I said, please make me pure!" He bows his head slowly. "But no. His answer was always silence. Disapproving, judgemental silence. When the all loving, all forgiving God gives you the silent treatment, you don't jump and shout for joy, no. I felt ashamed. I felt worse than the scum of the earth."

Hank places a hand over his parted lips. The carefree young man he adores is not, turns out, just full of air. 

"I tried ending it all." Connor admits, voice hoarse. He clears his throat off mic and takes a deep breath before continuing. "I was in the hospital for awhile too. All the while I kept praying to God to take this cup away from me. I said, ‘Lord, I don't want to drink its poison!’" he throws a hand in the air dramatically and squints at something in the ceiling.

Hank squints too, to see Connor's face better through the vaguely blurry and pixelated stream.

"But." Connor pauses. "God didn't listen. God had other plans. You know God!" Connor scoffs and a few people in their seats do the same. "In the hospital I met a kind gentleman named Carl. He was in palliative care, simply waiting to die. I bawled my eyes out at him one night, crying selfishly of my own fate. But he was so kind he took me in his arms and said 'Son, God's got bigger plans for you. He loves you and he will not let your potential go to waste!' I yelled at him, telling him he doesn't know my life and stormed off the room. The next day he was gone." Connor pauses for effect. 

Hank gasps, imagining that fateful night in his eyes. 

"By the time I was released from the hospital, God’s work in me had bared fruit. I understood that His love would never fail. What I thought was His judgemental silence was actually a persistent whisper saying 'Come here, I love you'. God was calling for my heart instead! Now, I want you to understand one thing, You can't change people like God can. You just can't. But God can change you. And once you let God's love fill your soul up to the very brim, you'll see. You'll see. I realized that the reason why I had love and joy to give, was because He had loved us first. And here I am today, preaching to you, delivering God's message of His goodness, of His mercy, of His glory!" 

Multiple people clap and shout relieved. The band starts to play in the background and Connor roars over it, ecstatic. "He has risen! He has removed your shackles. We are free!" 

Hank's overflown with the urge to wrap Connor in his arms and squeeze him so tight he can never feel worthless again. 

"I want you to join in with me, to God's holy supper." Connor informs everyone. "No matter what your situation, no matter how far you've drifted from the shore, together we share this meal in the name of Jesus, the risen Lord, the king above all kings, the deliverer and healer.”

Off camera Josh and Chloe and a few others start distributing bread and small cups of wine on golden trays.

“And you listeners online," Connor says, directing his words directly at the viewer, a blissful smile on his face, "I want you to take your cup of juice and your bread and join in with us, on the supper of acceptance, of love and God's overflowing mercy."

Not knowing fully what he's doing Hank looks around for anything he could use. He wants to join in on the meal of mercy, for Connor's sake, and maybe himself too. The only things he finds are a bag of sourcream and onion chips and a half empty can of lukewarm beer. It'll have to do, he decides as his catholic ancestors scream in horror on a cloud somewhere. 

"Jesus gave them bread saying 'This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in memory of me.'" Connor says and holds up a piece of bread before eating it. 

"The body of Christ," Hank repeats and grabs a chip and places it on his tongue with such reverence he forgets to breath for a while and when he goes, he inhales the spice mix dust and gets a violent coughing fit.

"Then Jesus said 'This cup is God's new covenant sealed with my blood, which is poured out for you.'" Connor continues and Hank grabs the beer can, relieved to get something to clear his throat with.

"The Blood of Christ," Hank mumbles between coughs and gulps down the lukewarm content of the can. He closes his eyes for a moment, hoping to feel something supernatural, but he doesn't. Only a burp comes out from deep within, leaving a sensation of heartburn in his throat. Somehow there's also this unexplainable warmth that washes over him in that instant. Maybe it's just the beer, Hank reasons, or the fact that Connor's already panting hard and heavy on the mic again about letting Jesus touch you, but nonetheless Hank stands up from the couch so suddenly it alerts Sumo. The dog lets out a low bark as Hank stumbles around the living room in search of his wallet and keys. 

"Let us praise the Lord!" Connor declares grinning wide and nodding at the worship team to get back on stage to play a few more songs. 

"He will lift the anxious and the weary, calling home the burdened and the lost," Markus sings with a clear voice as Hank starts his car and heads to the highway. The program mixes in with a little bit of crackle on the car radio. 

_"I am proof that You delight in second chances, I am proof of the power in the cross"_

Meanwhile, in the church Connor bows his head on the side of the stage, eyes closed and both arms up high, focused on praising the Lord with everyone else. He's sensing the Holy Spirit strongly today, feeling like something's on the move in his congregation. People shout hallelujah and clap their hands, some cry and hug each other.

_"I see a miracle in an empty grave. The One we thought was dead, has come to life again"_

Connor's worked hard to be where he is. With the multitude of blessings that have rained on him, he thanks the Lord out loud for everything, for his past, for his health, and sends out a silent prayer for all those souls he can touch and bring closer to God thanks to his church.

_"I see a miracle in every chain You break"_

Connor thinks back to the man he met a few weeks earlier. His heart sinks a little at the thought of seeing Hank's seat empty today. Markus delivers the lines of the worship song with such sincerity and heartfelt it makes Connor think it would be a miracle if he ever saw Hank again. God's working on his soul, he's sure, but leaving things in the Lord's hands and waiting patiently is not something Connor can pride himself in. 

_"The power of heaven roaring within me"_

After a few more songs Markus nods at the pastor to take back the stage. Connor walks up the few stairs to get there and steps into the spotlight, wiping a tear of overwhelm off his face, not minding the congregation seeing it. The music tones down and Connor grabs the mic again getting ready to ask everyone to close their eyes to address those who may have felt the Holy Spirit move in them for the very first time that day. It happens quite often and the church is growing at a steady pace but no matter how many hands are raised at the end of every sunday meeting, Connor always rejoices for each and every one of them. 

"I want you to close your eyes and allow God to reach out to you, to touch your heart. If anything we've said and felt together on this beautiful day has made sense to you, if you feel like today is the day when you're ready to give your heart to Jesus," Connor speaks with a low tone, practically whispering soothingly the rest of his sentence "I want you to raise your hand," he looks about the room full of bowed heads, "Raise it where I can see it, so I can pray for you-"

Suddenly the doors swing open, and the light from the lobby floods in, breaking the dim, mystical mood of the sanctuary hall. Startled, people turn around to see what's going on. Connor shields his eyes in astonishment, gasping at the sight of a rugged man standing by the doors, messy grey curls on his face, jacket buttoned up poorly.

"Count me in!" Hank shouts, gasping for air. He takes a few stumbling steps towards the stage. 

Connor's confused face melts into a triumphant grin. He kneels at the edge of the stage and spreads his arms wide, ready to lay a blessing on the man's head. But Hank walks directly into his arms and hugs him tight, head buried deep in the oversized designer shirt of his. After a moment of hesitation Connor sighs relieved and embraces him back. Lulling him a little from side to side he leans in close to whisper in his ear, "Glad to see you, _Hank_!" 

Someone closes the doors and Marskus and the band pick back up the uplifting and soothing tune they were playing earlier. Connor reaches for the mic he'd placed on the stage floor as Hank rubs his eyes and clears his throat, straightening his back. He looks up at Connor in a state of utter submission, defenceless, ready to receive the pastor's blessing. 

"Come, drink from the well of the living water, all those who wander!" The pastor shouts addressing the whole room but making sure to meet eyes with the man in his feet. A tear rolls on Hank's cheek and he looks as if he's holding back many more. Connor palms his face with one hand and gently wipes the tear off. "If you drink from just any well, you will soon be thirsty again. But if you drink from the well of the living water, an eternity of joy awaits you!"

"Amen!" says Hank. "Amen."

And Connor grins from ear to ear, pressing a hand to his heart, clutching the golden cross around his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out Tauren Wells - Close, and its prelude on his Citizen of Heaven album if you want to hear the origin of the “God’s so close” bit. It’s from an actual sermon.


End file.
